[Samael Ashwood's POV]
"Isn't that... Sera Rutherford, Mother of Clarissa." I whispered as I took in the figure lying in the containment unit. Sera Rutherford, once a formidable woman in both beauty and power, now looked pale and frail, her body seemingly sustained by the arcane machinery surrounding her. Tubes connected to her arms and head pulsed with a dim glow, channeling an unknown substance into her veins. Her face, though gaunt and sunken, still carried traces of the elegance she was once known for.
The beeping grew more erratic as if sensing my presence. I couldn't tell if it was a warning system or a sign that her condition was deteriorating. Either way, I knew I had to act fast.
"This complicates things," I muttered, feeling the weight of the decision looming over me.
Now, how to move her without making those machines go haywire? who knows those machines might be her life support.
